


A Kul Tiran Holiday Tradition

by AnAvgAthr



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dick in a Box, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, The Feast of Winter Veil, flynn is a gift, step one cut a hole in the box, the gift is not a puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAvgAthr/pseuds/AnAvgAthr
Summary: It's December so it's close enough to Winter Veil for this, yeah?Flynn and Mathias celebrate their first Winter Veil together, and Flynn has a tradition he’d like to share.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	A Kul Tiran Holiday Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> It doesn't feel quite like the holidays yet due to [gestures broadly at 2020], so hopefully this helps get some folks into the holiday season a bit. Happy Winter Veil, all!

~ ⚓ ~

The deck of the  _ Bold Arva _ was as boisterous as ever in Stormwind Harbor. Instead of the usual working chatter among the crew, the sounds of whoops, hollers and singing clashed with the silence across mostly abandoned piers with only a few errant gulls joining the chorus. It was the eve of Winter Veil, and most of Stormwind’s residents had found their way home to celebrate with family over cooked bird and decadent desserts before an early nightcap to welcome Greatfather Winter. The sun was setting over the ocean, while The White Lady and The Blue Child came into sharper focus as the pinpricks of stars began to pierce the veil of the sky, settling a blanket of calm over the city.

Mathias Shaw stood leaning against the starboard railing as he observed the crew’s jubilant celebration on deck. The warm mug in his hands chased the chill from his fingers, and the mulled spiced wine within warmed his stomach and mind. His normally icy demeanor had been thawed by the crew, who had adopted him as one of their own upon his return from Dazar’alor. His heart was warmed most of all watching Captain Flynn Fairwind carousing with his crew in all his unabashed glory, dancing and singing and chatting up a storm in true form.

The brothers, Harmen and Siward, had picked up instruments and taken up a merry shanty (Flynn had told him once it was called All for Me Grog) while the crew danced and twirled in the golden glow. They had emerged from the galley with full bellies and heads full of fantastical stories. Even their Tidesage during their mission to Zandalar, Melli, had traveled all the way from Kul Tiras to spin tales of her recent voyages with the navy after the 4 th war. And, much like any good occasion for sailors, the drinks were plentiful and strong.

The sun would be down soon, and as Nailor began lighting lamps across the ship Mathias took another sip of wine. He couldn’t stifle the slight smile that attempted to hide underneath his mustache, nor could one mistake the normally high-arched shoulders and set jaw for the relaxed stance and slightly glassy eyes that betrayed his normally stone-cold demeanor. Mathias was happy. While he was still content to skulk at the fringes of this gathering and make the occasional small talk, he drank in the joy and this newfound life that had been shown to him. Introspection was soon broken as Flynn’s natural timbre turned to a caterwaul reaching for a note too far, and the crew descended into drunken giggles around him. Shaw couldn’t help himself either, a soft chuckle escaping him as he took another sip of the warmed, sweet wine.

Flynn sauntered over to his copper-haired beloved, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes on the cuff of his greatcoat and wielding a mostly empty bottle of rum with his other hand. He sat on a crate next to Mathias, leaning into his side as the brothers picked up another song and a few of the crew chimed in. Flynn hummed along, wrapping his arm around Shaw’s waist and looking up at him with rosy cheeks.

“Told you this’d be more fun than those stuffy noble parties,” the Captain teased. And Mathias certainly wasn’t one to argue – he felt more alive in this moment than any in his many years of court sponsored galas and balls. Shaw unwound a hand from the warmth of the mug, letting his arm come to rest on Fairwind’s shoulder.

“It’s not much of a challenge; I think any time I get to spend with you is more fun than those stuffy noble celebrations,” Shaw murmured, keeping out of earshot of the rest of the crew.

The look Flynn gave him following that remark could’ve sunk any Alliance Warship, a devastatingly charming smile that wrenched away any modicum of control that the Spymaster still maintained.

“Put the cup down, love.”

Mathias knew better than to ask questions – he had about half a second before it would be spilled, otherwise. He placed the drink down on the rail before his arm was immediately looped with Flynn’s and he was dragged into a jig. The motions were foreign to his polished knowledge of the art, but the Captain swung him around wildly and even attempted a rather unorthodox twirl that Mathias would’ve followed had it not been for the wine. His foot caught Flynn’s and he stumbled, the taller man catching him in a dramatic dip. He yanked Mathias back up to him, chest to chest.

The longing lasted maybe a shred of a moment shorter than he had to put his wine down before Flynn captured his lover’s lips with his own, tasting of rum and pastry from dessert. The crew whooped and catcalled, which Mathias was acutely aware of, but he surrendered to it nonetheless. Flynn was merciful, ending it quickly before swinging him around again. They twirled and spun and danced with the crew until they were bathed in pale moon and lamplight, Mathias even joining in on a song or two with a little more drink and coaxing from his dearest. 

~ ⚓ ~

As the evening wound down to a close, most of the crew who called Stormwind homemade way to their families for the evening, excited to celebrate Winter Veil with the sunrise. Those of the crew from elsewhere would keep watch on the Bold Arva tonight, opening gifts the next morning with their found family. The Captain and the Spymaster had other plans, however, as they stumbled joyfully through the Harbor. As they passed, the lights in various houses lining the canals were dimming as folks tucked into bed, the scent of spiced meats and gingerbread still lingering up and down the streets.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve had fun like that in ages,” Mathias mused, tucking tightly to the taller man. The wind was less biting further from the Harbor, but the walk to Old Town wasn’t necessarily a quick one. The mulled wine was keeping him warm, but Flynn’s body was a heating element all its own and Mathias craved its comfort.

“And I’m surprised you actually know how to have fun,” Flynn smirked, enjoying the additional weight clinging to his side. The Spymaster’s usual elegance must’ve gotten away from him, although that may have had to do with some encouragement on Flynn’s part after the dancing had started. The drinking songs had been a blast and to Mathias’s credit he tried to keep up, but even an assassin tempered by dosing with poisons was no match for a Kul Tiran’s constitution when it came to drink. The walk back in the winter chill was sobering, and by the time they arrived home it was likely the pinkening of their cheeks was from the frigid air and less so the liquor.

The pair tromped through the front door, Flynn insistent on keeping them together at the hip as he regaled Mathias with a story he’d told him at least 3 or 4 times already (and Mathias had noted there were at least two more interesting characters and a new death-defying trap in this iteration). Once clear of the door and wrapping up the tale, the two disrobed their heavy greatcoats and winter apparel. The more orderly of the two carefully dusted snow from the shoulders before hanging them, while the captain paused mid-sentence as though struck.

“You need to open your gift.” Flynn had one arm out of his greatcoat, the other still trapped.

Mathias was puzzled. “Winter Veil is tomorrow, Flynn. Surely you’re not that far gone.”

Flynn’s pace picked up slightly as he continued to remove his coat. “No, no. Kul Tiran tradition, Mathias. You get to open one gift on the eve of Winter Veil, it’s upstairs. Give me a couple of minutes before you come up, yeah?” He grabbed the sides of Shaw’s face and planted a wet kiss on his forehead before turning on his (still booted) heel and bolted upstairs. 

Once upon a time, Shaw had hated the freebooter’s surprises. Not the thought behind them – Flynn’s attempts at being sweet rarely fell flat, but the spymaster was traditionally averse to surprises, and that in and of itself was no surprise. But like the seas teasing the shores for so long, Flynn Fairwind had managed to erode parts of Shaw’s defenses. He couldn’t help but breathe a heavy sigh as he removed his boots, locked up, and poured himself a glass of water. He mentally counted through two minutes while he sipped, preparing a jug of water and an additional glass for the morning and Flynn’s surely impending hangover.

He trudged up the stairs, allowing adequate noise to alert Flynn to his arrival. He shouldered open the door, hands full of the glassware. The lanterns were low, shadows flickering across the bedchamber. Flynn stood opposite of him, by their bedside. He had managed to lose the coat at least, and his boots at some point. The scarf was still somewhat haphazardly loosened around his neck and practically ready to fall off. Before him, at about waist-height, he held a fairly average-sized present. It was a beautiful red with an ornate green bow, or at least it appeared as such in the dancing shadows. Mathias placed the jug and glasses down on the nightstand, a raised eyebrow cocked at Flynn.

Flynn, of course, had a look that screamed a secret. “Okay, come open your gift!” There was a playful lilt to his tone that couldn’t have snuck past the Spymaster. A sly twitch of Shaw’s lip would’ve given him away, had it been seen.

“Hm. Hand it to me?” he said, coyly. Clever, dangerous, lovable dolt: Flynn was many things – subtle was not one of them.

The captain shook his head. “No, you gotta come here to open it.” He shook the box side to side slightly. Light thudding of something hitting the sides whumped across the silent room.

Mirth still sat comfortably within Shaw’s chest, tugging him toward his lover across the dimly lit space.

“Flynn, did you cut a hole into that box?” Mathias’s question felt more like a confirmed accusation, equal parts intrigued and expectant.

“Well, the gift in there’s gotta breathe. What if it’s a puppy?” Flynn gave up all pretense at this point, waggling his eyebrows at his paramour.

The copper haired man couldn’t suppress the chuckle as he reached his love. “Why do I get the feeling it’s not a puppy?” He fingered the lid of the box, testing the weight. Mathias had to admit to himself he was enjoying the playful equivoque, seeing how badly Flynn wanted him to open his present.

“I bet he’d like it if a lot of you pet him,” Flynn purred. He dipped his head a little closer, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. “But seriously, mate, open the box already.” A breathy chuckle escaped him. “This is getting uncomfortable and a bit chafe-y.”

Well, there goes the surprise, Mathias supposed. He smirked at Flynn playfully before tipping the lid off and onto the floor. As expected, Flynn had indeed cut a hole into the box – thankfully a large enough looking one that he could easily slip out. Flynn stood at full attention, his manhood swaying and twitching as the box jostled him slightly. The same green ribbon as the bow had been tied around the base of his length.

Shaw couldn’t help suppress the laugh and accompanying eye-roll, settling his gaze on Flynn’s. The devil was in that stare, and it stirred desires in him that he could so rarely deny. Flynn’s gaze was hungry, like a man starved on an island seeing his first sustenance in days. He reached in to palm his present; the ridiculous scene of Flynn’s pulsing cock contrasted by holiday cheer.

“I hope you like it, Mathias. I thought long and hard about what to get you,” Flynn purred, his hands reaching for Mathias’s waist. The box was barely held aloft, and Flynn’s suave demeanor cracked with a slight ‘oops’ as he rescued the package (and his package) with a steady hand.

“Light, Flynn get that thing out of there so I can enjoy my gift,” Mathias chortled, withdrawing his hand and removing his shirt. Clearly there was work to be done, and he was happy to serve. Flynn deftly removed himself from the box and chucked it aside, its purpose fulfilled. 

Shaw guided his mariner to bed, disrobing him and planting kisses along exposed flesh. He licked and nipped at Flynn’s chest, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of the man. He explored lower, licking his way down every muscle and expanse, Flynn’s treasure trail tickling his tongue until he found his reward. His hands caressed along Flynn’s sides, accentuating a tickle or two with a nip of a hip.

Shaw came face to face with his gift, burying his nose at the base and feeling the weight of it against his cheek. The slighter rogue played idly with the green ribbon. He pulled the ribbon steadily with calm and dexterous fingers, the green stripe of satin dragging deliciously around his beloved’s length. Mathias inhaled deeply and exhaled a slow sigh. Strong drinks from earlier in the evening weren’t the only intoxicating influences on Shaw, and he bathed his senses in his lover. 

Flynn crossed his arms behind his head, bracing himself for a better view as Mathias’s moustache tickled his balls. It was pleasant, but Mathias was certainly taking his time. Flynn took in the sights, however, enjoying Mathias nuzzling him. Shaw had begun lazily stroking him, while continuing to mouth at Flynn’s thighs and the occasional swipe of the tongue across his balls. The insobriety on Shaw’s face wasn’t from the drink earlier, but spurred by desire. Flynn committed the scene to memory: the gentle caresses, the heat rising on Shaw’s cheeks, the half-lidded gazes upward and coy smile before inhaling his scent again. 

The sight of the Alliance’s Spymaster between his thighs never failed to entertain him – the normally stuffy and prim Spymaster Shaw giving way to Mathias, the man that had pulled Flynn under like a tidal wave. Flynn cupped his hand against Mathias’s cheek (the one that wasn’t occupied with his throbbing need). He ached with how badly he wanted his lover, a low rasp clinging to his voice.

“You might want to hurry this up, love. I doubt Greatfather Winter has time to put you on the naughty list, but I don’t want him catching us either.”

“I’m enjoying my present, though,” he murmured against Flynn’s pressing need. He started planting ridiculously lax kisses up and down his lover’s mast, reveling in feeling Flynn’s heartbeat against his lips. He gave a final tug and unwound the green ribbon completely, running it along the sailor’s skin. 

Flynn let out a soft hum at the new sensations, returning his arms behind his head glancing down at his love. “Fair. I just don’t want Greatfather Winter to be the only thing coming tonight.” He wrapped a leg around Mathias’s midsection, stroking bare flesh with his calf. Mathias shot him an icy stare while he palmed Flynn’s manhood. The look was both comical and extremely arousing, Shaw’s scathing smolder reminding him to behave.

Flynn took his cue, running his fingers through his long, golden brown hair and lying back into the soft pillows. And, as his head sunk into feather soft down, so did the spy bear down on him. He released a breathy sigh, feeling Mathias lavishing his cock with his tongue, bobbing and tugging, his hand and mouth slowly working in concert. The captain would groan and praise his lover (and the tides) when Mathias would find spots that would send electricity jolting through his body.

The two of them lay like that for a while, Flynn with his eyes closed and enjoying being worshiped by his lover. Mathias, enraptured with his gift, enjoying pleasing and serving this devilish scoundrel who had stolen his heart. Flynn’s bliss was only slightly disturbed by a new sound joining the chorus of lewd slurps and smacks: Mathias was  _ moaning _ around him. And oh, wasn’t that a wondrous feeling.

Flynn cracked an eye open, glancing down at rusted-copper hair. Mathias was indeed enjoying his gift; Flynn had never seen him so entranced. Almost as though he could feel the new eyes on him, Shaw’s eyes looked up to meet Flynn’s blue stormy seas above him. He withdrew, breathing heavily, a sweat on his brow and his hair plastered to his forehead. He huffed and rested his head against the Kul Tiran’s thigh, his hand taking over and stroking Flynn while he mouthed at his testicles. Then he nuzzled his face against the hard length, and Flynn’s composure faulted as his lover lost himself in his lust.

A bead of precum welled and fell, falling to Shaw’s mustache. Shaw pinched at it with his forefinger and thumb, contemplating it for a moment before devouring it with delicious abandon. The look of amorous shock from Flynn was well worth the show he was putting on, but at this point Mathias wasn’t sure if it was for him or his own lustful desires. There was something delightfully deviant in relishing in his love. Mathias shot his best attempt at a sexy, sly glance before returning to his duty. It was the most charming, heartwarming, and awkward thing Flynn had ever seen. It plastered a matching ridiculous grin on himself, he was sure.

Flynn was rising closer to the edge, his hands reaching down to guide and encourage Mathias on him. The chorus and vibration of Shaw’s rumbling moans was music to the sailor’s ears and vibrated delightfully on his ever-sensitive manhood. His head fell back into the pillow again, relaxed sighs and deep groans giving voice to his satisfaction. His body began to betray him with gentle squirms of hips against the mattress. Pleasure had woven its way through his being and was coiling tightly in his loins, and he was on the cusp of spilling over. Flynn was pretty sure he verbalized some kind of warning, although he wasn’t quite sure of what words tumbled out. It was met with redoubled efforts from down below, however, so the point clearly made it across.

It was shortly after his orgasm began but just about when he felt Mathias’s mustache brushed and held against Flynn’s pelvis that he truly gave into ecstasy. Flynn pulsed and emptied himself into the warmth wrapped around his cock, and Mathias swallowed greedily. The blood rushing in his ears gave way to groans and moans from his lover, and another lewd slurp as the other man withdrew.

Flynn could barely lift his head to observe, but Shaw lay there between his legs, wiping his mouth on his forearm with a sated hunger behind emerald eyes. He lay his head down in the crook of his arm, which itself was resting on Flynn’s thigh. His other hand lazily scratched up and down the Kul Tiran’s fuzzy abdomen, soothing tingles trailing under his fingers.

Flynn gestured for Mathias to join him, and the slender spy crept up his body to lie alongside him. The spy’s soft hands traced strong muscles concealed by a love of rum and good food. Flynn kissed him as they met, wiping copper hair that clung to his lover’s matted brow. “That was delightful,” Flynn sighed, letting his fingers run the length of his lover’s torso.

“I learned from watching the best, I suppose.” Shaw’s expression was that of the cat who got the canary – clearly pleased with his work and relishing in Flynn’s afterglow.

That Mathias took inspiration from Flynn’s experience wasn’t lost on the captain, sudden motivation daring to rouse his lust again. He leaned and propped himself up, gently guiding Mathias’s back to the bed. “How can I return the favor, love?” His hands roamed the man carved of marble beneath him. Pale and well-defined, his body flecked with shocking red hair that stood in stark contrast.

“Just touch me,” Shaw murmured. Flynn knew that Shaw wasn’t hard to please, despite his demand for perfection in all other things. He had admitted early on that after so much time alone he rather enjoyed just being touched and enjoyed. He loved their passionate sex and the dull ache after wonderful evenings, but he was equally content some nights with just being admired and held.

Flynn’s hand traveled south, finding his lover’s erect manhood already throbbing with want. He could feel Shaw’s pulse in his hand, and he was already drawn tight with desire. Shaw had enjoyed his present in more ways than one, apparently. Flynn withdrew for a moment, finding the oils they kept for more intense lovemaking and slathering his palm before returning to his ministrations.

A rough but gentle hand began to glide and spread the lubrication everywhere, testing a comfortable grip as Flynn began stroking the lithe man next to him in earnest. He kissed Shaw, his tongue begging for entrance along the copper-haired rogue’s lips. Shaw moaned into him and bucked slightly, raising a hand to rest on the captain’s bicep. He felt it pump in time with the ecstasy dragging along his length, a metronome at delightfully, torturously slow speeds. Each pass in full sent pleasure and desire coiling deep in his abdomen, and the impeccably disciplined Shaw writhed under the ex-pirate’s touch.

The bigger Kul Tiran longed to hold his lover more completely, and with his free arm scooped underneath the lithe mainlander. He sat up to lean himself against the headboard, cradling Shaw’s back against his chest. Shaw reclined against his beloved, Flynn’s head settling against his collar. Licks, gentle grazes of teeth, and some love bites assailed Mathias, ticklish jolts of euphoria meeting with primal need churning in his gut. Flynn’s leg overlapped one of the Spymaster’s, entwining them. Flynn’s foot stroked Mathias’s calf, adding to the cacophony of sensual gratification seeking to overwhelm him. The Spymaster’s breathing labored, and a beautiful red blush was gathering on his chest. Flynn’s smile pressed against his neck, and muted groans escaped the slender rogue.

Shaw’s bucking of his hips did nothing to spur Flynn’s hand quicker – however, that made no difference to the sensations building and threatening Shaw’s release. The freebooter was used to his lover’s quiet signals; Mathias wasn’t a verbose partner, but he had his tells. Flynn could sense the way Shaw’s body was stiffening against his, how it flexed and pressed with each torturous drag of the perfectly angled grip. It wouldn’t be long now.

Flynn rocked his hips in time with Shaw’s bucking, and with a few more languishing strokes euphoria overtook him. A choked grunt escaped from the silent spy, and Mathias’s body was wracked in ecstasy, his orgasm spilling and shooting up his abdomen to his chest. Flynn stroked him more quickly now, but only just so, riding out the waves of ecstasy crashing through his beloved. He held him close, seeking skin-to-skin as Shaw writhed in his arms.

Mathias’s body went limp as he relaxed deep against his lover, his head sinking and being met with Flynn’s forehead. Flynn continued to plant satisfied kisses up and down his lover’s collarbone and neck, continuing to milk and squeeze him and relishing in the mess of it. Shaw’s labored breathing began to steady, and he stretched slightly – his back popping in the process. He let out a satisfied sigh as he rested his head against Flynn’s.

A soft hum escaped from Flynn, rather satisfied with his handiwork. He kissed Shaw’s cheek, whispered a “let’s get you cleaned up, love” and pulled away. When Flynn returned, he had a long, thin box wrapped in bright red paper with a green bow on it and a towel. “I wasn’t joking about actually opening a gift on the eve of Winter Veil. The first box you opened was for me. This one is for you,” he said, handing Shaw the box. Flynn set to wiping Shaw’s body down with the cloth before settling in next to him.

Mathias turned the box over in his fingers. He held it delicately, removing the bow and finding the crease in the paper. He ran his finger along the edge, looking for the best place to open the seam. He could hear the deep breath and exhalation of frustration from the captain – best to move this along then.

He tore into the paper, revealing the box within. It was made of dark walnut wood with a clasp on the side – a very nice one, at that. As he opened it, lamplight illuminated the soft glint of gold at the end of two long leather strings. Mathias took one out and dangled it before him – half of a golden coin, cracked in a jagged seam down the middle, marked with the seal of King Rastakhan. A matching necklace with the other half of the golden coin lay at rest in the box still.

“Made ‘em myself. It’s a gold piece I nicked from the treasury. Wanted a memento for safe keeping. Never would’ve guessed I got to walk out with the real treasure, and he’s right here in my bed with me,” the captain teased. He drank in the keen look on the Spymaster’s face, the softening gaze as the realization hit him. The love and ache that danced on his brow and the way he tilted down to capture his lips when the words couldn’t find their way out. Flynn understood that Shaw may be unfamiliar with the vocabulary of love, but this was a language that needed no layer of interpretation. 

Mathias kissed Flynn with his entire heart, tender and longing. It ended with him clearing his tightening throat and pulling the necklace over his head, letting the gold piece lay against his bare skin. His emerald eyes seemed glossier than normal in the dim lamplight of the room, dewy like mornings in a season still far away. He watched, observant, as Flynn removed the other necklace and donned it, fluffing his hair over it.

“Thank you, Flynn. Light, you scare me with how easily you unravel me.” Mathias tucked his head into the crook of Flynn’s neck, tangling his legs with the Kul Tiran’s and preparing to sleep. His eyes lingered on the matching necklace, nestled on the curls of the sailor’s chest.

Flynn responded with a soft hum above him. “If I get to see you unravel like  _ that _ more, I might have to indulge myself. That was a sight that’s going to keep me warm on the Arva for quite a few nights next time I’m out to sea,” he chuckled. He thought he could feel the icy glare in the low lantern light, but when he looked down it was met with a warm, coy smile under a successfully unkempt mustache.

“Happy Winter Veil, you absolute scoundrel,” Mathias grumbled with a grin.

Flynn couldn’t help but run his fingers through the short coppery hair before tightening his hold on his slender lover in an embrace.

“Happy Winter Veil, Mathias.” 

~ ⚓ ~


End file.
